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Thursday, May 12, 2016

Maui

I'm a very private person by nature--an observer. I don't let it all hang out.

For my 30th birthday, seven years ago now, I took a two-week vacation to Hawaii. I wanted to get away, get a tan, snorkel, and decompress.

I went alone. I love to travel alone.

While I was on Maui, staying at an adorable little inn overlooking a picturesque cove full of Orcas and newleyweds, I learned about a nude beach that wasn't too far away. Figuring I'd shake things up a bit, I went to check it out.

To get to the nude beach, not sanctioned by the state, you had to go to a more mainstream beach and then climb up a lava tube and over a cliff. That alone was exciting, but not nearly as entertaining as the little beach that I found on the other side.

The beach was beautiful--tucked away, serene, and full of naked people of all shapes and sizes.

Not everyone was showing their full monty. Some of us were there purely on sightseeing expeditions, never intending to bare our bare bums. So I chose a bathing suit over my birthday suit, however I did muster up the chutzpah to wear a less conservative one than my normal beach boardies. You know, "When in Rome..."

Watching the bathers being so free, owning every inch of themselves as they splayed in the sand, splashed in the waves, and frolicked in the surf, completely comfortable with their skin to the wind, I realized something about myself: I keep much of me very guarded.

I don't think being guarded is necessarily a bad quality. It has its merits. But there is a balance to be struck between sensitivity and principal; between compassion and passion. So consider this blog my attempt to shed a metaphoric layer or two.